


Heavy is the Crown

by wafflesandkruge



Category: Nikolai Series - Leigh Bardugo, The Grisha Trilogy - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: Arranged Marriage AU, F/M, Gen, Grishaverse Big Bang 2019, Pining, Royalty AU, accompanied by art by talented friends, idiots to lovers, so much pining, zoya with a sword what can i say
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:33:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21942964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wafflesandkruge/pseuds/wafflesandkruge
Summary: In the Kingdom of Ravka, when the heir apparent for the crown turns eighteen, the palace seer casts a spell across the land to find the next king or queen consort. Zoya Nazyalensky finds herself dragged, most unwillingly, out of her simple life in Novokribirsk to be groomed as Crown Prince Vasily Lantsov’s future wife. Between the etiquette lessons and gossiping courtiers, she finds little happiness in the Grand Palace aside from the stolen moments she has with her future husband’s younger brother. But with her impending marriage and the rumours swirling around the palace of a coup organized by the mysterious Darkling, will Zoya follow her head or her heart?
Relationships: David Kostyk/Genya Safin, Nikolai Lantsov/Zoya Nazyalensky
Comments: 27
Kudos: 84
Collections: Grishaverse Big Bang 2019





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello welcome to this hot mess I wrote for the Big Bang. There's accompanying art which can be found on my tumblr!

“Higher!” Botkin demanded. Zoya raised her sword, but not quickly enough. Botkin’s staff whacked her side and she stumbled back, trying to regain her footing. He didn’t wait and instead pressed his attack, raining down strikes that Zoya could barely block. She lost ground until her back was pressed against the stone wall of Botkin’s garden with nowhere left to run. She made a desperate swing at his head. He easily batted her sword to the ground, leaving her palms stinging. The end of his staff scratched the sensitive skin of her neck. 

As soon as she held her hands up in surrender, he dropped his staff and stalked off, muttering. Zoya scowled. Botkin was always tough on her, but not like this. 

“What’s your problem today, Botkin?”

“My problem? My problem is that you’re not trying.” He took up his starting position again and Zoya quickly did the same after retrieving her sword. Soon, the garden was once again full with the metallic ringing of their weapons meeting and their harsh breathing. 

Zoya’s arms burned as she blocked strike after strike. Botkin wasn’t holding back and it wasn’t long before the only thing on her mind was predicting his strikes, searching for openings, and trying not to trip over her own feet.

There- Botkin stepped in a little too far for an overhead strike. She went low, rolled, and came up behind him. He spun around, but Zoya’s sword had already tapped the spot behind his heart- a killing blow if she had gone through with it. 

They stood frozen for a minute. Zoya scanned her teacher’s face, but it was unreadable as ever. Sometimes, she found herself wondering what kind of life the Shu man had had before he’d ended up in this tiny town where nothing ever happened. Perhaps a disgraced assassin or a retired pirate? Either way, he knew far too many ways to kill a man to have been an ordinary civilian.

Botkin let out a breath and straightened up. 

“I did not teach you such flashy moves, Nazyalensky. They will not serve you well in battle.”

She stuck out her chin. “But it worked.”

“So it did.” He left it at that and Zoya wisely decided not to respond. She sheathed her sword and went to go retrieve her bag from a corner of the garden. She carefully slipped the sword into a padded cover. Her sword was one of her most precious possessions– Liliyana had given it to her for her sixteenth birthday after it had been traded in to the shop by some drunk nobleman. The pebble sized sapphired embedded in the hilt gleamed in the dying rays of the sun. Zoya ran a thumb over the Ravkan double eagle crest on the hilt one last time before tying off the cover and slinging it over her shoulder. The sun was beginning to set which meant Liliyana and Lada were waiting for her to help close up the shop.

“Same time tomorrow?” she asked hopefully. 

“Yes, yes.” He waved a hand dismissively at her. She turned to go, but as she pushed the gate open, he called after again.

“Be careful, Nazyalensky. The Seeking is coming this year and you know how people are.”

Zoya snorted.

“Are you suggesting I’m going to be the next Queen Consort of Ravka? Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll do my best to look out for moony eyed maidens trying to woo the Crown Prince if that’ll make you happy.”

He crossed his arms and glowered at her, but it was hard for him to be intimidating when he was surrounded by his husband’s bright tulips and roses. 

“Don’t get smart with me. Give your aunt my regards.”

“Will do.” She closed the gate behind her.

The path to the main part of town was strangely deserted, but Zoya didn’t mind as the silence helped her think.  _ The Seeking… _

Ever since the dawn of the Kingdom of Ravka, it had been a ritual enacted for every Crown Heir to the Ravkan throne. Whenever the Crown Prince or Princess turned eighteen, the Court Seers would cast a spell across the land to pinpoint the location of the next King or Queen Consort. More often than not, the Seers would “divine” the location to be in a large city such as the capital or a spot nobles had summer estates and the consort would end up being just another noble. But many young peasant girls, Zoya’s sister Lada included, clung to the tales of the Queen Consort Vasilissa or Ludmila who were chosen peasant queens beloved by the people. 

Zoya thought the entire concept was absurd and foolish. She couldn’t imagine being snatched out of her life and offered up to some stranger like some perfectly wrapped present. No, she’d already had to suffer that once before and she would much prefer her freedom to a life of stuffy manners and cruel nobles. Her sister could keep that fantasy for herself.

After another few minutes walking down the gravel road, the first buildings of the town center came into view. Novokribirsk wasn’t a particularly wealthy town. Most of the shops had seen better days and many already had their windows shuttered despite the sun not setting for another hour. Only a few people milled about, their baskets mostly empty.

Nazyalensky’s Curios was a rather pitiful looking building with a sagging wooden roof. Zoya wrinkled her nose as she approached. The store was sandwiched between a grocer and a butcher, so it always either smelled of slightly rotting vegetables or the metallic scent of blood. The paint on the hanging sign was starting to chip again and Zoya made a mental reminder to repaint it the next chance she got. She deftly dodged two gossiping matrons and pushed open the door.

The bell above the door rang and Zoya was instantly greeted by an elated voice. 

“Hello, welcome to- Oh, it’s just you,” the girl behind the counter said sullenly. Even her pigtails seemed to droop as she slumped back down onto her stool.

“Just me?” Zoya asked teasingly as she dropped her bag and sword on the counter. The shop was devoid of customers. Lately, Liliyana had confided in her, there hadn’t been much business. She’d had to sell some of her jewelry to keep the shop afloat, but there wasn’t much left in their dwindling funds. With winter approaching and increased prices due to a crop failure, Zoya was anxious about how they would have enough to eat. She would be fine skipping a few meals here and there, but Lada was still a growing girl. 

Liliyana emerged from the back room, her apron askew. Her lips stretched into a warm smile as soon as she saw Zoya. As usual, she came over and kissed her on the cheek, her familiar rosewater perfume tickling Zoya’s nostrils. 

“Back so soon? We were thinking about closing up early and heading home for dinner.”

Zoya shot her aunt a look. They weren’t supposed to be closing for another two hours. If there hadn’t been any customers all day… Liliyana shook her head slightly. Zoya pursed her lips, but didn’t pursue the topic further. 

She pitched in as they put the more valuable items into a locked storage room, shuttered the windows, and swept the floors. Soon enough, she had Lada’s book bag slung over her shoulder as the family made their way home. 

They lived on the outskirts of town, but on the opposite side as Botkin. The buildings gradually became shabbier the closer they got, but under the last golden rays of the sun, they still managed to give the impression of a village from a fairy tale. 

Lada whistled happily as she skipped ahead of Zoya and Liliyana, seemingly without a care in the world. Suddenly, Lada turned around with a sparkle in her eyes. “Myea and I were talking about The Seeking today!”

“Oh? What about it?” Liliyana asked, humouring her. 

Zoya sent up a silent thank you to the Twelve Saints that Lada was too young to be eligible. She would never survive amongst people who smiled to her face but would stab her in her back if it meant favor with someone else. 

Lada frowned, a rare expression for her. “I wish I were a little older. It would be amazing to suddenly be a queen, wouldn’t it? Living in a huge palace, hundreds of servants, pretty dresses–”

“And marrying Crown Prince Vasily Lantsov?” Zoya asked with a raised eyebrow. Lada’s cheeks colored.

“I heard he’s really handsome. They have a portrait of him up at the apothecary, I see it when I visit with Myea sometimes…” 

Liliyana laughed. “My daughter would leave me for a man she’s only seen in a painting and the pretty dresses he offers? My heart is broken.”

“It’s not like that!”

They continued to bicker good-naturedly until they arrived home. Home was a simple two-story house on top of a grassy hill. The walls were painted a cheery blue, but the chipped paint couldn’t hide the age or wear of the wood. The house was constantly creaking and moaning and Zoya was genuinely terrified of it collapsing if they were ever hit with a strong storm. Lada didn’t even bother taking out her key when she got to the front door. Instead, she strategically pounded on two spots around the lock and shoved the door open with little resistance. The house’s residents had become quite accustomed to not having a functioning front door. 

Dinner was a worrying affair as there was more chatter from Lada than food on the table. Zoya had pushed most of her portion onto Lada’s plate and her stomach growled as she shuffled up the stairs to her room to catch a few hours of sleep before she had to wake up early to open shop, as futile as it seemed these days. 

“Zoya,” someone hissed from the kitchen. Zoya turned around and saw Liliyana poking her head out of the doorway on the first floor. Her aunt gestured for her to come down. 

As soon as she crossed into the kitchen, Liliyana pressed a wooden jewelry box into her hands. Zoya opened it and found the last of her aunt’s jewelry, mostly things she had inherited from Zoya’s grandmother. 

“I need you to sell it all,” Liliyana whispered. Zoya stared at her, not quite sure what had brought this on. Liliyana periodically asked her to sell a piece or two whenever money was getting tight, but she had never touched anything that had been in the family. 

“Are you sure?”

Liliyana nodded with a worried frown. “Yes. Don’t bother opening the store tomorrow, I’ll take care of it. Get as much money as you can, then buy whatever’s available in the market. There’s been word of crop failure this season and if we don’t stockpile now, there will be nothing left come winter.”  
Zoya’s head spun with the onslaught of new information. Once they sold the jewelry, they would have virtually no safety net. If something unexpected happened…

“All of it? But-”

“Yes, dear.” There was a sorrowful expression on her aunt’s face as she ran her hands over the jewelry one last time. “We’ll make it through, no matter what. Wait–”

Her fingers stilled on a bronze cuff. “Don’t sell these. I want you to have them.”

Zoya protested as her aunt took the cuffs and fit them onto her wrists. They were a beautiful bronze, maybe half a finger wide and fashioned in such a way that they looked like the scales of a giant animal.  _ A dragon _ , her mind supplied. It might have been her imagination, but her wrists felt warm where the metal touched them.

“My mother used to tell me we were descended from people that rode dragons,” Liliyana told her. “These bracelets were supposedly a memento of that time. I think you would have made a great dragon-rider.”

“Thank you,” Zoya said. Her aunt, satisfied, left the kitchen and Zoya to her thoughts.

That night, Zoya fell asleep with those cuffs still on her wrists. She dreamed of dragons.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a year later,,,,here it is. pls take it i don't want it anymore.

The Seers had seen it. A nothing town with nothing people. But within them, a diamond in the rough. An ember in the ashes. There would be no Queen Consort this reign, but a True Queen, one to rule alongside the King. 

The Apparat smiled as he was ushered into a carriage. The threads of fate were being spun, and soon, a peasant girl from Novokribirsk would be caught in their web.

* * *

Novokribirsk was the busiest it had been in years. All of the town’s inns (a grand total of two) were stuffed to capacity as visitors flocked to see the spectacle of The Seeking. Liliyana had made Zoya and Lada shine the shop window until it gleamed in hopes of attracting customers, and thankfully, it seemed to be working. They’d been doing steady business for the past week, enough that Liliyana had given her and Lada a small allowance so they could each have a new dress made for the arrival of the Kingsguard. 

Zoya fidgeted with one of her dragon cuffs as they waited in line at the seamstresses’ shop. It seems like half of the town’s female population had the same idea, and they were probably going to have to wait an hour or two just to have ten minutes to discuss a design with the seamstress. Zoya wondered how many of them actually thought they had a chance of becoming the next Queen Consort, and whether having a flashy new dress would be the deciding factor. 

She stood on her toes and tried to judge how much longer they’d have to wait. The line snaked out the seamstresses’ battered front door, across the street, and into the shady alley where Zoya was in line. Zoya let out a frustrated huff, but Lada seemed unconcerned as she sucked on a piece of candy. 

There were so many better things Zoya could have been doing at that moment. She could be helping Liliyana at the store, or better yet, training with Botkin. She fingered the few coins she had in her pocket, then made an impulsive decision.

“Here,” she announced as she dropped the coins into Lada’s pocket. They made a satisfying slink against the coins already there. “You can have my share as well. Get yourself a nicer dress. I’m going to Botkin’s, just head back to the shop when you’re done.”

Lada frowned. “Are you sure? What if-”

Zoya laughed and gestured at her unruly hair, her bruised arms. “What if what? No seer in their right mind would make me a queen and a new dress won’t help that fact. I’ll see you later.”

Lada pouted, but waved goodbye as Zoya left the line with a new spring in her step. She’d made the right choice. Why bother being poked and prodded with pins while she could be sparring with a legendary swordsman?

* * *

It seemed Botkin still hadn’t gotten over his strange mood from the last lesson. Zoya’s muscles ached as she leaned on the hilt of her sword, gasping for breath. To her satisfaction, Botkin was wiping sweat from his brow and looked the slightest bit out of breath. When she’d first started taking lessons, she’d considered just getting his breathing to speed up a little to be a great victory. 

“Same time tomorrow?” Zoya asked as soon as she regained her breath. Botkin didn’t answer and instead chose to look dramatically towards the horizon. Zoya mirrored him and saw nothing except for the rooftops of Novokribirsk. She held the position for a moment longer before turning away and stuffing her sword in its bag. Botkin didn’t seem inclined to move anytime soon, so she slung the bag over her shoulder and moved towards the garden gate. 

“See you-”

“Zoya.” The unspoken command in his voice made her freeze and turn back towards him. 

“What?”

He held her gaze for a moment. “Stay for a moment. I have something for you.”

He went inside the house and Zoya briefly considered bolting. She had no idea what her teacher was up to and she wasn’t sure she was going to like the surprise. Botkin was not known for his spontaneity.

He reemerged with a flat object wrapped in dark blue fabric. Without ceremony, he thrust it at Zoya and she took it hesitantly. The cloth slipped and fell to the ground, then Zoya was holding a beautiful sheathed dagger. She removed it from the engraved sheath and admired the gleaming blade. It was a little shorter than her forearm, a perfect partner for her sword. The sapphire embedded in the hilt winked at her in the day’s last traces of sunlight. It was obvious the dagger had been meticulously cared for. 

“You’ve earned your steel, Zoya. It’s yours.”

“I-” Zoya wasn’t sure what to say. She sheathed the blade and cradled it to her chest. “Thank you so much. I’ll put it to good use.”

Botkin raised an eyebrow. “I sure hope you won’t have to. Now, on your way. Your aunt will be worried.”

Zoya nodded and practically sprinted home in her excitement.

* * *

The next day was the welcome parade and festivities for the Kingsguard and their entire procession. Zoya chose not to go. Instead, she tended to the shop despite Liliyana insisting there wouldn’t be any customers. Zoya didn’t mind her aunt’s prediction coming true, though. She passed the hours carefully polishing her new blade until she could see her own blue eyes clearly reflected on its surface.

* * *

Early the next morning, when the town was still sleeping off the festivities of the previous night, Zoya was awoken by a loud banging at the door that shook the entire house. She bolted upright, her gaze going straight towards her sword on its usual stand. What the hell was happening?

“By the order of the King, we demand you open this door!” a deep voice yelled from outside. Zoya swore and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Cold air nipped at her skin as she threw her covers back and slipped on shoes. She didn’t have time to think as she threw on clothes and grabbed her sword. Why was she arming herself? Surely the Kingsguard wouldn’t hurt innocents-

She had barely left her room when she heard the door being opened and Liliyana’s bewildered voice. 

“How may I help you? Surely you’ve made a mistake-”

“We’re here for your niece. Zoya Nazyalensky.” His heavy accent butchered her name.

Zoya retreated slowly into her room, making sure to be as quiet as possible. Her heart hammered in her ears. What did the Kingsguard want with her? The jewel-encrusted scabbard of her sword dug into her palm.

“What do you want with Zoya?” 

“I’m sure you’ve already guessed. Congratulations.”

Something clicked in Zoya’s brain. Botkin’s warnings about The Seeking. Lada’s jokes about her eligibility.  _ No. _

She stumbled in shock and in correcting herself, knocked a vase off her nightstand. It shattered into a million pieces. Yells came from downstairs, then the pounding of feet in the house. Zoya looked around helplessly. She wouldn’t go with them. She couldn’t.

She pushed open her window. Without a second thought, she launched herself out of it. For one glorious second, she flew. She landed gracelessly with a jarring impact, then started running. 

Her house bordered meadows now full of yellowing and dead grass. Frost glittered on the ground. On any other day, she would have thought the sight beautiful, but now all she saw were potential hazards that could be her downfall. She didn’t dare look back as she sprinted away. About a mile away, the woods started. If she could reach them, she could hide for a few days, then return when they eventually gave up on finding her. It wasn’t a solid plan, but if she could just get a few moments to catch her breath and think, she’d get out of this.

Her sword thumped painfully against her back with every stride. She prayed she wouldn’t have to use it. It was definitely treason to stand against the Kingsguard. A desperate laugh threatened to burst from her lungs. Maybe if she dueled one of them, they’d choose someone else. 

Shouts sounded from behind her. She snuck a look backwards and was horrified to see maybe ten of the Kingsguard pursuing her. They were steadily gaining, while she was definitely slowing down. A surge of both fear and recklessness shot through Zoya. They wanted her? Fine.

In one smooth motion, she skidded to a stop, turned, and pulled the sword from its scabbard. If Botkin was supposedly the best the Kingsguard had to offer, then she had a decent chance against these men. She took a deep breath and steeled herself. 

They approached slowly, like she was a rabid animal. None of them had drawn their weapons yet. There were nine of them, each wearing light armor and armed with a basic sword. She made sure to keep shifting her position so they couldn’t move behind her and surround her. 

“What do you want from me?” she demanded. 

“We’re here to bring you to the palace, that’s all,” the leader responded. She could hear the sneer in his words. She tightened her grip on her sword and swung it in front of her threateningly. They all backed up a step.

“I’m not going. You have no right-”

At some unseen signal, half of the men lunged forwards, swords drawn. The rational side of Zoya’s brain shut down as she fell into the comfortable rhythm of combat. 

_ Dodge. _

_ Parry. _

_ Strike. _

The sounds of the world around her were reduced to just her harsh exhales and the muted clang of metal on metal. She made sure to strike with the flat of her blade and before she knew it, the four men who had charged her were sprawled on the ground, groaning. Her arms ached, but still she straightened her spine and put on a smirk. 

“Good luck with your little task, sirs. I sure hope the King isn’t wasting too much of his money on piss-poor guards such as yourselves.”

The leader’s eyes narrowed. “Watch yourself, girl,” he snarled. “There are thousands more where you came from. We could replace you easily enough.”

Zoya snorted. “Might as well get some better guards while you’re at it. The fact that some little peasant girl from nowhere is beating you makes me concerned for the state of this kingdom.”

He didn’t deign her a response, but his mouth pressed into a flat line and he raised his sword into an unspoken threat. Zoya mirrored him. She wouldn’t be able to fend off all of them, but she could die happy if she just whacked this particular bastard upside the head. 

Zoya watched as his lead foot shifted in a tell-tale sign. She met his first strike easily, parrying it to the side and ducking as another soldier’s sword whistled by overhead. They weren’t giving her the same courtesy of using the flats of their blades. Zoya nearly stumbled at that revelation, but she quickly wrestled her senses back into control. She wouldn’t let her life end here on some meadow outside of the town she’d never left.

With a shout, she swung her blade towards the head of the leader. But before the edge could connect, a familiar sword swung suddenly into her field of vision and met hers with a resounding screech. She stared at her mentor in shock. “Botkin?”

“Nazyalensky. I never took you to be such a fool,” he practically spat. Zoya took a step back and lowered her sword. Botkin now stood between her and the Kingsguard, and judging from their looks of distaste and recognition, they would have preferred to face her alone. 

“Captain Botkin,” the leader greeted. He didn’t lower his sword. “It’s been a while since we’ve met. Of all the towns you could have picked, why this backwater hovel?”

“I was hoping to avoid you lot,” Botkin muttered. “I need to talk to the girl, then she’ll be all yours.”

Before the soldier could protest, Botkin had seized Zoya’s arm and dragged her several feet away out of the soldiers’ earshot. “Zoya Nazyalensky.”

She stayed silent, not knowing where this conversation would be going. Was he here to save her? Or throw her to the wolves? 

“You short-sighted fool. One way or another, those thugs will bring you to the palace.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but he shook his head. “Don’t talk back for once. Listen. You can take advantage of this situation and make the best of it.”

“But-”

“Listen! This is the way things are done.” There was an unspeakable sorrow in his eyes. She’d never thought of her mentor as elderly, but for the first time, his age was beginning to show. “You cannot run or hide. But like the phoenix, you must rise. Do you understand?”

She nodded slowly. She never understood his cryptic metaphors, but she’d long since learned it was better to pretend that she did.

Botkin sighed, as if he could read her thoughts. “Life in the palace will be difficult. Trust nobody.”

“I understand.” This time, she wasn’t lying. 

“Good. I’ll make sure your aunt and sister are taken care of while you’re gone. But otherwise, the sooner you go with them, the better. Dry your tears, Nazyalensky. Demand something of them in exchange for your agreement.”

Zoya took a deep breath in, waited for the shuddering in her body to subside, then let it out slowly. She could do this. Botkin stepped aside as she approached the soldiers again. Her sword was still gripped tightly, but she let the blade point towards the ground rather than at them. 

“I’ll go with you.” She hated the uncertainty in her voice, its small tremors as she tried to keep her tone firm. She raised her chin and tried to summon every ounce of bravado she had. “But I have conditions.”

“You’re in no position to negotiate. We either bring you back as you are now or we bring you back with your hands and feet bound.” The man had sheathed his sword, but his beady eyes still made Zoya uneasy. She took a small step back in an attempt to put distance between them.

“You may tie me up but I swear I will make your job absolutely miserable.” At Botkin’s encouraging nod, she stood up a little straighter. She put steel in her voice. “And I’m sure the King would love to know about how a peasant girl bested four of your men.” 

She watched him swallow, his eyes darting from side to side. Had she gotten him? Finally, he ground out a response from between his clenched teeth. 

“Fine.”

* * *

Zoya hadn’t grown up with much, but she’d never quite realized that until she was standing back in her little room deciding what to bring with her. To Os Alta. It still didn’t seem true, some figment of imagination gone wrong. Of all the girls in the kingdom who dreamed of becoming a princess or queen, why would they pick the single one who was happiest with the wind at her back and a sword in her hands?

“Zoya.” Lilyana’s quiet voice from the doorway shook her from her thoughts. Her aunt seemed to have aged a decade in the last hours, her hair escaping her usually neat bun. She wrung her worn apron in her hands. “They’re waiting for you.”

She glanced out the window, and indeed, a carriage with the royal crest emblazoned on its side was parked in front of their door. It was ridiculously flashy compared to the shabby house and a flicker of shame ran through Zoya. How on earth was she expected to fit in at the palace? Even now, she realized she wouldn’t be bringing any of her possessions with her, not when they’d attract ridicule and scorn. Her cheeks heated and frustrated tears pricked at her eyes.

As if sensing her sudden mood, Lilyana quickly wrapped her in a familiar embrace. Her aunt’s scent of spring breezes and warm bread enveloped her and Zoya couldn’t help leaning more into the hug. Would this be the last time she saw her aunt? “My sweet girl,” she murmured as she stroked Zoya’s hair. “You are stronger than you know. Remember, fear-”

“-is a phoenix,” Zoya finished, having heard it thousands of times before. 

Lilyana placed her hands on Zoya’s shoulders and smiled. Had her aunt always had so much gray in her hair? “Exactly. You will walk out of this stronger than before.”

“But-”

“Hush. Gather your things. Lada still wants to say goodbye and you know how that girl is.” The two of them shared a quiet laugh about the youngest Nazyalensky. She would have to leave Lada behind, too, she realized. Everyone and everything she’d ever known was about to be snatched away, perhaps forever. She dug her nails into her palm as Lilyana left the room after one last kiss on her cheek.

In the end, she only took her two blades and a spare change of clothes. She supposed everything else would be provided for, and Lilyana could make a little extra money selling her old possessions if it came down to it. She cast one last look around the room she’d grown up in. More of a closet, really, that Zoya had tried her hardest to make livable. While nothing was of particular value, the love behind each object was clear. The coverlet Lilyana had painstakingly embroidered with a pattern of waves and wind. Three smooth pebbles that she’d found on the riverbank lined up on the windowsill. Several bright paintings Lada had gifted her pinned to the wall. She wouldn’t trade it for all the gold in the world.

Lada tackled her with a hug as soon as she trudged down the rickety stairs.

“You have to tell me  _ everything _ ,” the girl demanded, her mouth set in a stubborn line. “I want to know exactly what the prince does each day, from the moment he wakes up.”

“I think that’s called  _ spying _ , little one,” Zoya said dryly as she shuffled to the door with Lada still clinging to her waist. “And it would be considered treason.”

They came to a stop outside the carriage. Zoya opened her mouth to speak, to reassure them that she’d be okay, but a strange lump rose in her throat. Would this be the last time she saw her family? 

Lilyana, as unflappable as ever, gave her an encouraging nod, her arms crossed over her chest. Lada, finally detached from her waist, gave her a cheerful grin. 

“I’ll- I’ll be seeing you soon then, I guess,” Zoya managed. Despite the measly few feet separating them, she already felt unbearably lonely. 

“You’ll be back for my birthday, right?” Lada demanded, her hands on her hips. “You promised you’d take me to the spring festival when I’m old enough.”

Zoya exchanged a look with Lilyana, then crouched down so she was at eye level with Lada. “I’ll try my best, okay? If you’re a very good girl, I'm sure the King will let me come visit you.”

Lada stuck out her lower lip, but nodded. “I promise to listen to mom then. And do my homework. And not eat sweets at night.”

Zoya chuckled and ruffled her hair. “Valiant goals.”

All too soon, the soldiers were clearing their throats meaningfully and gesturing for her to get in the carriage. She hugged both of them one last time, tried to memorize how they felt in her arms- then she was clambering into the carriage. The soft  _ click _ of the door’s lock felt like the slam of a prison cell’s bars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> maybe you'll have to wait another year for the next chapter who knows. but yes nikolai appears (briefly) in the next chapter hmmmm


End file.
